Food Fight
by scelerus animus
Summary: L cooks. At three o'clock in the morning. Light is not pleased. Light, L.


Author Notes: Funnily enough, I wrote this at 3 o'clock in the morning. I blame L. Hope you enjoy!

Beta'd by the wonderful _jjwitdaheydiddydiddy_.

_Tamagoyaki_ is a rolled omelette that can be flavored in many different ways

**genre:** crack? ridiculous humor? pseudo-bonding over food?

**disclaimer:** disclaim'd

**characters/pairings:** L, Light

**prompt: **cooking

**spoilers:** I'm not sure. Let's say up to the Yotsuba Arc.

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**Food Fight**  
by scelerus animus

- o -

At the sixth hotel they set up as their temporary Headquarters, Light learns that L can cook. In fact, he cooks exceptionally well (even if ninety percent of what he cooks is sugar-loaded sweets and desserts).

The problem is that L prefers to cook at _three o-fucking-clock_ in the morning.

"It is conducive to my sleep," L explains. Light looks at him incredulously.

"What the fu—" Light growls, grabbing a small bowl out of Ryuuzaki's hands. "You have got it completely backwards, Ryuuzaki."

"You are impeding the investigation, Yagami-kun," L says calmly. He pulls out a large bowl from one of the cupboards in the small kitchenette this particular hotel suite happened to have. "Your actions only further confirm your identity as Kira by one-point-four percent."

"_What_?" Light screeches (not that he will ever admit his voice could reach that high of a note).

"I need nourishment to function properly."

"Nourishment?!"

"You are parroting me, Yagami-kun. You are not functioning at peak condition. Perhaps you require sustenance as well." L is nonchalantly going through more cupboards, picking out various ingredients with two fingers and placing them on the counter.

Light's look of incredulity has yet to leave his face, but he thinks he might be developing a permanent twitch in his right eye.

"Cakes and pies and tarts are not _suitable nutrition_, Ryuuzaki," Light argues, this time grabbing a large mixing spoon from L's fingers and slamming it down on the counter. The chain clinks loudly against the kitchen tile. "And most normal people require _sleep_ at three in the morning to function properly!"

Shuffling to the fridge, L bends over and retrieves some milk and eggs.

"Sugar is perfectly nutritious," L replies simply, as if it is completely logical. He dumps the milk and eggs on the counter. "I do not require Yagami-kun's help. You are welcome to rest at the counter." L says, nodding at the stools by the counter, across from the one covered in the numerous cartons and boxes.

Light gapes at him for a few seconds.

"That is not an attractive look on you, Yagami-kun," L says, cracking an egg on the edge of the bowl in the most awkward way possible. "Though perhaps that expression is one of defeat…" L looks over his shoulder with a positively wicked smirk and speculative gleam in his caffeine-drugged creep-eyes.

_Asshole_, Light thinks.

"I can make Yagami-kun sweet _tamagoyaki_ for nutrition and functionality," L suggests.

Light stills, outstretched fingers pausing a few inches away from strangling L. _Dammit_, Light thinks. L knows his weak spot.

Groaning, Light drags a hand across his face, pulling at his hair with frustration. But his body aches with lack of sleep, and his legs waver beneath him after working all day on only ten hours of sleep in the past three days and the promise of _tamagoyaki_ sounds ridiculously good at the moment. With a mental sigh, Light grudgingly relinquishes the spoon, stumbles over to the stool, and collapses on to it. He sprawls gracelessly over the countertop and shuts his eyes.

Light thinks he can hear L _humming_.

After twenty minutes, Light's ass is sore, and his back aches from sitting slumped over the counter. He's not quite comfortable enough to do anything more than dose.

"Goddammit Ryuuzaki, you insomnious food-fetish _freak_, we are going to bed right fucking _now_!" Light finally breaks and violently yanks on the chain.

L is in the middle of mixing some concoction in the giant bowl with his spoon, when Light wrenches the chain; consequently, all three—L, bowl, spoon—come flying toward him.

In retrospect, Light probably should have thought over his plan more thoroughly.

L collides into him, Light topples out of the stool, and they both crash into the counter, then the floor. The batter follows, splattering all over them, and Light isn't sure if it's the spoon or L's bony elbow that jabs him in the stomach painfully. With the wind knocked out of him, he gasps for air.

When he catches his breath, he notices that L is licking batter off Light's fingers.

L. Is. Licking. Batter. Off. His. _Fingers_.

Light's right fist smashes into L's cheekbone with a satisfying crunch.

When the rest of team finds them in the kitchen in the morning, dried batter is spattered everywhere, three of the four stools are broken, the sink faucet is across the room, and the garbage disposal is making odd gurgling sounds.

Bruised and bloodied, L is blithely eating a piece of triple-layer chocolate cake, while Light methodically eats a bowl of rice and tamagoyaki.

_- Owari -_

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End Notes: Comments? Constructive Criticism?


End file.
